


Like Moths To A Flame

by karuvapatta



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Crimson Peak Inspired, Multi, Past Child Abuse, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sibling Incest, Spitroasting, The Author Regrets Everything, Threesome - M/M/M, Unhealthy Relationships, is that the name of it?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-23 23:21:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7483974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karuvapatta/pseuds/karuvapatta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Auguste welcomes Damianos at Château de Vere, where he lives with his brother Laurent and the ghosts of what happened to them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Moths To A Flame

**Author's Note:**

  * For [loki-on-mjolnir (basalganglia)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/basalganglia/gifts).



> Happy birthday to Cate, aka the architect of most of my bad decisions lately. I hope you won't mind that my writing is a little rusty, and that I'm posting this too early, but I wanted to wish you the very best of birthdays! ♥

They rode down the hill, narrowing their eyes against the wind, with their faces low above the horses’ necks. Outside the stifling halls of their estate, the world was bright, beautiful, and fragrant; Auguste could taste the spring in the air.

Next to him, so close their legs almost touched, Damianos laughed loudly, as his horse flew down the last few yards and stopped, abruptly, its hooves trying to find purchase in the sand. Damianos patted the mare’s neck and jumped off her back, letting her loose to drink from the lake and nibble on the grass.

He cut a striking pose, even in his simple cotton shirt and riding trousers. Some men chose their clothes to give themselves dignity; Damianos made the outfit dignified by wearing it.

And Auguste fell for that, for his easy smile, open heart, and the strong, capable grip of his large hands. He fell, and Damianos fell with him, down onto the sand by the lake, where they grappled in breathless laughter, until the purposeless touches were no longer enough. And then, with Damianos’s hot mouth pressed to his neck, and a hand down his trousers, Auguste came, seeing only this: the wide blue sky above them.

***

Laurent, silent and watchful, found them at the stables. He was still wary of Damianos, as he was wary of everyone. With a pang of guilt, Auguste drew him into a hug, not letting his hands linger. There were apologies he had to make, but they were not for Damianos’s ears.

“You had him,” Laurent said later, in an expressionless voice. “What was it like?”

“Joyful,” Auguste said, because he couldn’t lie to his little brother. “Uncomplicated.”

It was long past midnight. Laurent had sneaked into his bedchamber, still carrying the stale aroma of library on his clothes. The fingers of his right hand were stained with ink, almost black on his pale skin. Auguste brushed the stains with his thumb.

“You should go out more,” he said softly.

Laurent blinked at him, with his serious blue eyes.

“I do not want to go out.”

Once he made up his mind, he could not be swayed. Auguste did not even try.

***

A few days later, Damianos went riding into the village. He was a guest at their estate, but the isolation made him weary. He needed to be among the people. Together they watched him go, the lone figure on horseback, disappearing down the hill and between the trees.

Unsurprised, Auguste felt Laurent’s smaller, narrower hand on his arm, and then on his chest; his little brother burrowed into his embrace, and murmured, “You like him.”

There was no accusation in his voice; there was fear. It rang loud and clear between them, _Don’t leave me_ , and _Please_ ; everything that Laurent refused to say, no matter how true, as it had brought him enough misery in the past.

“I do,” Auguste said. He thought of Damen’s mouth just this morning, wrapped around his cock, sucking him off with cheerful, practiced ease. Then he looked down at Laurent, whose face was still carefully blank, whose movements were usually so restrained. “But I like you more.”

Laurent smiled faintly.

Their lips met, for a split second at first. A reassurance, nothing more. But then Auguste slipped an arm around Laurent’s narrow waist and kissed him, waiting for his mouth to open, to let him in. Guilt churned in his stomach, terrible, horrible guilt; for a moment it overwhelmed him. He had an apology at the tip of his tongue, but his tongue was already in Laurent’s mouth, his hand buried in Laurent’s fine yellow hair.

“Then fuck me,” Laurent said breathlessly. “Please.”

Auguste took him to the darkest part of the corridor, in the most secluded part of the house. They couldn’t see each other clearly, but it was all right. He knew Laurent’s body by now, his hands sliding over familiar soft skin and delicate bones.

He could say that he didn’t want it, but he did. He could claim that Laurent’s soft gasps didn’t make him hard, but they did. And he could deny every ounce of pleasure he felt when his fingers found Laurent’s hole, when they worked him open, he could scream at the top of his voice and deny everything; he didn’t. It felt blissful. It felt divine.

Laurent took him readily, offering all of himself and expecting nothing back. Whatever he was getting from this, Auguste did not even try to understand.

“I love you,” he said afterwards, with Laurent falling asleep in his arms. Laurent, his precious little Laurent, nodded and seemed content.

***

He felt the tension between them even before they did, perhaps. Once Laurent began to talk, once Damen got a measure of his sense of humour and his carefully guarded expressions, they spent more and more time caught in conversation. Auguste noted the curious little glances, the way Damen’s thoughts would drift back to “something Laurent said” even when Laurent himself was not in the room.

This time, Laurent accompanied them to the lake. He got there before the two of them: by virtue of his lighter weight and remarkable skill, Auguste stopped being able to outrace him a few years ago.

He sat still and perfectly straight in the saddle, watching them with no trace of triumph or pride. Auguste had his suspicions that Laurent still assumed his older brother was humouring him by letting him win. As he used to, when Laurent was much younger: a curious bright-eyed child, a little shy but full of easy joy. And the serious, withdrawn young man Auguste had found in his place, almost a stranger to him. Courtesy of the time Laurent spent in the care of their uncle while Auguste was off travelling the world.

But that was then.

Right now, Damianos walked over to Laurent’s grey mare, patted her neck and expressed his admiration. Then he offered his outstretched hand, brilliant and warm in the sunlight. And Laurent, the faintest blush covering his cheeks, accepted. Even though he hadn’t needed assistance to dismount a horse ever since he grew tall enough to ride one.

***

“I owe you an apology,” Damen told him over the glass of wine they shared in front of the massive fireplace.

“What for?” Auguste asked.

Damen said nothing, his eyes on the flames. For the first time since they met, he looked uneasy. Auguste, who well understood the struggle, let him gather his thoughts.

“For being unfaithful,” Damen said eventually.

That gave Auguste a pause, and then a flare of suppressed rage. “You’ve bedded my brother?”

“No,” Damen said. “But if he wanted it, I would.”

“He refused?”

“I never asked.”

_Why_ , Auguste wanted to say. It was obvious to anyone that Damianos achieved something no other human being ever had: piqued Laurent’s interest. And then managed to keep it. Honestly, under his attention Laurent had bloomed like a flower under the first rays of sunlight. Or perhaps it was obvious only to Auguste, who knew Laurent better than anyone.

***

He paused, and then resumed walking. What devil possessed him to do so, Auguste did not know.

They heard him, that was obvious. Laurent jerked back, and then attempted to make them look casual. But he was still straddling Damen’s thighs, and Damen’s arms were wrapped possessively around his middle, both their mouths reddened and glistening.

Laurent breathed a little harsher. Auguste hadn’t seen him like that before, not in the full light of day coming through the uncovered windows. They were in Laurent’s private little sanctuary, the reading corner among the massive collection of books. Auguste thought, amused, that finally something managed to distract Laurent from reading.

His brother’s wide blue eyes remained unguarded, and Auguste couldn’t stand the helplessly confused expression or the apologies Laurent was opening his mouth to make.

“Don’t mind me,” he said lightly. “Don’t mind me at all.”

Damen’s hold on Laurent’s waist hadn’t loosened. Apparently, he was not as honourable as to let go of something he desired, now that it was finally in his arms.

With a careful intake of breath, Laurent turned back to Damen and ran a hand through his soft black curls. Instantly Damen’s attention was on him, no longer bothered by Auguste’s presence.

They looked good together. They looked so good it hurt.

Laurent moved first, his lips finding Damen’s; kissing him with the soft curiosity of one discovering something great, something wonderful. Maybe a little wary of ruining it with too much enthusiasm. And Damen followed his lead, careful and attentive.

It was not what he expected, when he imagined his brother in the hands of an almost-stranger. But it was easy to trust Damen.

“Undress me,” Laurent said breathlessly, breaking the kiss. Damen smiled at him, indulging his commanding tone with an amused quirk of his lips.

“As you wish, Your Highness,” he said.

His smile faded a little when his fingers discovered the intricate lacework at the back of Laurent’s heavy jacket. He tugged at them at random, and only managed to pull the garment more tightly.

“Let me,” Auguste found himself saying, his feet carrying him forward. Before he took note of Damen’s shocked expression, he was already undoing the laces with well-practiced motions.

Perhaps he was unwelcome. He must have been. But Laurent leaned back into him, closing his eyes briefly. There was a faint tremor running through his body. He had to be nervous, then, first time with a proper lover. And Auguste hated to see him that way, no matter how much he trusted the both of them to be good to one another.

“Relax,” he spoke softly. The jacket came apart under his fingers, revealing the lighter silk shirt Laurent wore underneath it.

Damen was watching them, with more curiosity than revulsion. His eyes couldn’t have missed the way Auguste stroked Laurent’s soft hair, or the way Laurent relaxed completely, caught between their bodies.

“Some people in the village spread vile rumours about the two of you,” Damen said. “I did not believe them.”

“Do you regret it?” Auguste said a touch defensively. He was ready, if need be, to snatch Laurent away and escape. But Damen was still holding him tightly.

After a pause - a long pause, during which both Laurent and Auguste stared at him intently - Damen visibly swallowed.

“No,” he said.

Laurent kissed him again, and Auguste felt sick with relief. He made to step away, but Damen’s hand caught his arm and pulled him back in, without breaking the kiss he shared with Laurent.

“Stay,” Damen said hoarsely.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” Auguste said, but Laurent echoed the word, and shivered when two pairs of hands steadied his hips, his waist, his heaving chest.

None of them knew what they were doing, that much was obvious. But Damen seemed confident enough, kissing Auguste messily over Laurent’s shoulder, while Laurent was nearly ripping his shirt apart in the effort to pull it off. With the heat of his mouth, the soft press of his lips, and Laurent’s back wriggling against his chest, Auguste felt himself growing hard. All his worries and misgivings melted away.

His knees hit the wide window ledge Laurent had piled with pillows and blankets, creating a nest for himself. There was room enough for the three of them to collapse in an ungraceful heap, trading kisses and touches, to the point where Auguste lost track of whose hands were where, and whose mouth was latched onto his neck, or whose trousers he was helping to unlace.

They took a moment to catch their breaths and, in Auguste’s case, consider the logistics. But Laurent was ahead of them again, pushing Damen down, raking his nails down his muscular chest and climbing onto his lap.

“Help me,” he said, excited and impatient. Damen looked up at him like he couldn’t believe his luck.

Auguste didn’t know who the order was aimed at, but decided to comply. Laurent was too busy anyway exploring every inch of Damen’s dark skin with his mouth and tongue, and Damen was too busy trying not to come on the spot.

There was a vial of oil hidden somewhere to the side, which meant that Laurent’s time here was more adventurous than Auguste gave him credit for. He uncorked it quickly and spilled it over his fingers, so that they were already slippery when Damen helpfully spread Laurent’s legs a little further.

Auguste had never before looked at what he was doing, and it made him a little light-headed right now. Laurent’s hole was pink and tightly furled, but it relaxed while he massaged it. They both gasped when he managed to slip a finger inside, and again when he pressed in, past the knuckle.

Breathless now, Laurent put his head on Damen’s chest in an attempt to ground himself, while Damen murmured soothing words into his ear. Auguste carried on, encouraged that the soft sounds Laurent made were of need and pleasure, rather than pain.

Laurent took him in easily enough, his hips stuttering at the intrusion, and then pushing back, eager for more. He was long past his usual control, gasping wetly into the skin of Damen’s neck and shoulder. Damen’s fingers were stroking the damp hair at his nape, other hand curled possessively around his hip.

Damen’s heated, hooded gaze found Auguste’s. They paused, both aware of how fragile the moment was. But they went too far to turn back, and Laurent was getting impatient.

Convinced now, Auguste withdrew his fingers from the tight heat of Laurent’s body. He sat back, a little apart, marvelling at the gentleness with which Damen handled his lovers: how he helped Laurent to sit up in his lap, and then kneel astride his hips. Laurent’s thighs trembled visibly with the effort, and he was biting his lip, lost in the fantasy they were all sharing. He reached for the hard length of Damen’s cock, positioning it confidently at his entrance.

Auguste couldn’t see. He wished he could.

He watched their faces instead, and heard the loud moan, broken when Laurent abruptly ran out of breath. Afraid of hurting him, perhaps, Damen fisted his hand in the blanket, clenched so tight he nearly tore it in half. Laurent, determined, shifted his hips and slid another inch lower, taking more of Damen’s huge cock inside of him. It seemed impossible that it would all fit, but Auguste was certain that Laurent would stop the second he felt any pain.

Next moment, he wasn’t so certain. Laurent was lost, so lost, pushing himself down onto Damen’s lap, his hips shifting constantly, restlessly.

Auguste was painfully hard. The realisation should have brought him shame, but it did not. All he felt was a pang of regret, because sunlight filtering through the high window was the only touch he felt on his bare skin. But the sight alone was bringing him dangerously close, so he wrapped a hand around the base of his cock and squeezed tight, to keep himself from coming.

“Laurent,” Damen gasped; then, when Laurent was fully seated, when he took in the entire length of Damen’s cock, again, brokenly, “ _Laurent_ -”

Laurent shivered, and frowned. His eyes flew open and then, inexplicably, they sought out Auguste.

“Wait,” he commanded. “Stop.”

He slipped off and rearranged himself on his hands and knees, saying, “Like this, come on....”

Damen obeyed instantly, scrambling up to position himself behind Laurent’s upturned hips. His hands spanned the entire width of Laurent’s waist, curling around his sides. From this perspective, as he sat before them, Auguste could see both of their faces when Damen breached Laurent again: the same blissful expressions, their mouths falling open, eyes drifting shut.

Laurent grunted when Damen began fucking him for real, his smaller hand creeping closer to Auguste’s, until he caught it, and felt it grip him painfully tight.

“Please,” Laurent said breathlessly, looking up; Damen’s muscular arm wound around his chest, pulling him up. And Auguste was there, acting on pure instinct, to brush the sweaty hair from Laurent’s face, and catch his reddened mouth in a kiss. It turned damp and messy, their teeth clashing together, while Damen’s movements only sped up, thrusting into Laurent’s willing body.

“Damianos,” Laurent said weakly, and “ _Oh_.”

Auguste kissed the side of his neck, his pink nipples, his fingers brushing the soft hair at the base of his cock. Damen moaned, his own hand joining Auguste, wrapping them both around Laurent’s hard cock. The tip of it was wet and their hands were sweaty, but it was enough for Laurent, sweet little Laurent, whose tiny moans were sending shivers down Auguste’s back; whose last gasp was barely audible, and who came in their shared grip.

Damen slowed down a little, mindful of how sensitive Laurent had to be. But he wasn’t yet done, and neither was Auguste; they shared a quick kiss over Laurent’s shoulder.

“Do you want--” Auguste began, but Laurent stopped him, with an insistent hand on his chest.

“Lay back,” he said, in the same commanding tone.

He smiled a little smugly when he was obeyed. Auguste had an inkling on what he wanted, but wasn’t at all prepared for the sight of it: Laurent, still speared on Damen’s cock, lowering himself down, between Auguste’s spread legs. His hot mouth enveloping Auguste’s cock, swallowing him down without preamble.

Auguste had to restrain himself from thrusting up, into the wet heat of it. He tossed his head back while Laurent pleasured him, with his tongue and lips, cheeks hollowed to pull the cock even further inside his mouth.

“Oh, fuck,” Damen said, or “Oh, god,” or other meaningless nonsense; or maybe it was Auguste’s own voice.

He was so close already, the tension coiled tight in the pit of his stomach, in his drawn-up balls. His cock was rigid with blood, and the sensation was overwhelming, of Laurent’s mouth on his skin, toying with the head of it, tonguing the slit only to swallow him back down. It was too much, all of it, the helpless little thrusts that threatened to gag his brother, and the sounds Damen himself was making; it was too much, and then _too much_ , so that he could no longer take it; he came, pleasure rendering him breathless, lost.

For long moments, he lay there, breathing hard. Laurent had pulled away, swallowed down his seed and then licked his lips. When Auguste managed to look at them, they were kissing, and Damen’s hips stuttered as he found his own release.

***

The madness ended, but Auguste was reluctant to let go of it. All three of them were, still curled around one another in the cocoon of blankets, far away from the rest of the world. Laurent looked pleased as he lay between them, every inch of him covered in their sweat and come. He would let them hold him, and wouldn’t stop smiling.

They stayed like this and let the moment last.  



End file.
